


Find Your Missing Piece

by natsora



Series: The Sword and The Scabbard [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ace main character, Aro - Freeform, Aro Inquisitor, Aro Main Character, Aromantic, Asexual, Beheading, F/F, Flashback, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Vomiting, Whump, ace - Freeform, ace inquisitor, aspec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26250328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsora/pseuds/natsora
Summary: How is executing a man different from felling a man in combat? Dead is dead, killing is still killing. Trev can still feel the vibrations of the blow rippling up her arms, it makes her sick. The sight of it throws Cassandra back into the past, waking old wounds long thought healed. As both of them struggle through their pain, it is another challenge they must overcome or risk sundering what they have.
Relationships: Cassandra Pentaghast/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast
Series: The Sword and The Scabbard [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1375087
Comments: 36
Kudos: 33





	1. right place, wrong time

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter titles are all taken from [Meant For Me by Lewis Watson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ObJej9zwgw)

Trev growled a wordless sound of frustration. She scooped a glob of salve using her fingers. It had the consistency of porridge — good to eat, disgusting on the skin. Normally reaching to the spot between her shoulder blades was easy, but when every pull of her muscles tugged at her stitches, it felt like hell. And when she finally managed it, the sting of the salve brought tears to her eyes. 

Trev let her hand dropped to her side, too weary, too in pain to keep trying. Sitting hunched over, cross legged on her bedroll, she rode the hurt out. The singing of insects and frogs outside filled the air. For a while, she could pretend she wasn’t miserable, cold and wet. The entire trip to Crestwood had been frustrating. Though — thank the fucking Maker — the rain had finally stopped, everything remained wet. Her boots never fully dried out, her cold armour stung her skin when she put it on in the morning. She was whining, albeit in her head rather than out loud — unlike Dorian — but she couldn’t wait to get back to Skyhold. At least there, even though it was cold, it was comfortable. 

Trev massaged her temples before an ill-timed spark of the Anchor sent a bolt of green light flaring right into her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut and twisted away, succeeding only pulling at her stitches. “Fuck,” she hissed, straightening when she felt a pop on her back. 

“Trev,” Cassandra called from outside. “Are you…” There was the telltale sound of boots squelching in mud, then the tent flap rustled and got flipped open. A gust of cold wind hit Trev's back, and she shuddered. Cassandra sighed. “You’re bleeding again.”

“Can you just come in? It’s fucking cold.”

“Sorry.”

Most of the cold air got abruptly cut off when the tent flap fell back into place. Trev shivered and waited. Cassandra removed her boots and padded over. A cloth pressed against the wound on Trev's back. She grunted at the pressure. 

“Sorry, but I have to—” Cassandra started.

“I know,” Trev cut in. “It’s just frustrating.”

For a while, Trev pressed her fingers into her temples, trying to will her headache away. The way her Anchor was acting up didn't help matters. 

“I’m going to have to stitch the one that came apart.”

“Okay.”

Warm hands ran against her back, tender and careful. Then, sharp stabs pierced her skin. Trev clenched her fists and held back her urge to make a noise. It wasn’t so bad compared to when she got the wound, but her walls had been filed down by Crestwood's relentless rain. A cool tingling feeling spread across her wound as Cassandra applied the salve. _Why did it feel better when Cassandra is the one doing it?_ The pain finally ebbed away, Trev’s head sagged, wishing for sleep. 

“Lift your arms up,” Cassandra instructed. 

Trev did so. Slowly, Cassandra winded bandages around her chest, front to back and back to front. Over her breasts and back, securing a thicker pad against the wound to keep the salve against it and to absorb any excess bleeding. There was no blushing or giggling like young maidens new to nudity, they were warriors, used to taking care of each other. These touches and comfort were exchanged between comrades in arms, friends. Cassandra faced Trev as she tied the last bit of the bandages on her front. “Done.”

“Thank you,” Trev whispered, feeling a little lightheaded. 

Cassandra squeezed her shoulder. “Anytime. Just ask for help the next time. Less popped stitches that way.” Trev nodded, reaching for her blanket. But before she could lay down, a shirt plopped against her lap. “Put that on, you don’t need a fever on top of that,” Cassandra said. 

Trev sighed and pulled on the shirt. The neckline hung lower than her usual shirts. She lifted it and sniffed — cedar and sword oil. This belonged to Cassandra. Trev smiled and tucked it close to her face as she lay down. “I can’t wait for tomorrow. I just want it to stop raining.”

“It has,” Cassandra pointed out, slipping into her bedroll, turning onto her side. “Dorian wants to get out of here as much as you. He has been complaining non-stop.”

A soft chuckle rocked Trev’s body as she squirmed closer towards Cassandra. The cold seemed to be seeping up from the wet ground up through her bedroll into her skin. She shivered. Cassandra shifted so that Trev’s chest pressed against her back and their hands intertwined over her waist. 

“His hair and moustache looked positively sad,” Trev muttered sleepily into Cassandra’s back. She chuckled as she remembered. “I wish we’re back in Skyhold now.”

“I bet you do,” Cassandra replied, her voice vibrating her chest, through Trev’s arms. “You know maybe you should take a break when we get back.”

“Yeah…” Sleep unravelled at Trev’s consciousness as her words got more and more garbled. “Sounds good, we can sit around and read or something.”

“You still owe me that sequel,” Cassandra reminded. 

Trev hummed. Words were beyond her now. Sleep claimed her, letting her sink into the comfort of having Cassandra near, the warmth of their bodies pressed together and the throbbing in her back faded into nothingness. 

* * *

Cassandra sighed and her eyes peeled open. She could hear the patters of rain thudding against the tent. It was raining _again_. Dorian had made his thoughts on the weather very clear. Trev too, even if she didn’t speak them. Maker, even she tire of it. 

Cassandra moved slowly so that she could extricate herself from the warm cocoon Trev made with her arms. Turning around, she studied Trev for a moment. In sleep, the Inquisitor looked incredibly young. The lines near etched between her brow, the weight bowing her shoulders vanished. Cassandra pressed her heel of her palm against Trev’s forehead. It felt a little warmer than usual. Hopefully, the wound healed properly. The weather had made it difficult to keep the wound dry. 

A muffled shout came from outside. Cassandra frowned and got dressed. It was still early, Trev should get what sleep she could. Determined to keep the others from disturbing Trev, she emerged from the tent only to find a solider running towards her. 

“Seeker,” he stopped, almost slipping in the mud. 

Cassandra reached out to steady him. Behind her, Bull emerged from the tent he shared with Dorian, nodding at her in greeting. She turned her attention to the soldier. “What is it?”

“We found the Mayor.”

That turned everything on its head. Cassandra jerked her head at Bull — a signal to follow. “Take me to him,” she barked. Maker, she prayed Crestwood’s folks hadn’t caught wind of it. 

The Maker didn’t answered her prayer. When she neared Crestwood proper, a crowd gathered around the Inquisitor’s soldiers. That told her everything she needed to know. Greogory Dedrick knelt in the mud, his clothes soaking wet, his face ashen and pale. One soldier had his hand on the former Mayor’s shoulder while the others did their best to keep the townsfolk — fast turning into a mob — from killing him on the spot.

Bull strode over and planted himself between the townsfolk and Dedrick. “Give us a little room people,” he roared. 

The townsfolk backed away. The tension sizzled even in the drizzle. The day was shaping up to be horrible, and their plans to depart for Skyhold indefinitely delayed. 

“Justice!” the townsfolk cried. 

Cassandra unsheathed her sword and banged it against her shield to be heard over the din. “What is the problem?”

“We want justice for our families, for our dead! The Mayor must pay,” the voices came in overlapping waves making it hard to understand who said what. Spittle mixed with rain splattered against her face. The misdirected of fury hit her like a wave. She wasn’t responsible for the Mayor’s reprehensible actions, drowning refugees and townsfolk alike. 

She held back her temper. The crowd didn’t want justice, they only wanted blood. With the target of their ire so close, nothing else would satisfied them. “There will be judgement, but it is not for the likes of us to decide. We have laws.” Typically, the Mayor had the authority to decide a perpetrator’s punishment for most crimes. But when the Mayor himself was the perpetrator, it made things very messy. “We will send him onto Ferelden for judgement,” she shouted. 

“It will be too far!” one shouted. 

“He will just escape again!” another screamed. 

Their protests came relentlessly. Rain slowly but surely dripped down her hair, seeped under her armour and set the chill into her bones. Cassandra barely started her day, she hadn’t even had a chance to have a bite to eat or a hot drink to warm herself up and she was already tired. Just as her last strand of patience frayed, she heard Trev called out. “What’s going on here?”

“The Inquisitor is here.” The words rippled across the gathered crowd. 

The energy remained charged, though it calmed a little as Trev came into sight. Her hair, not in her usual combat braids, was already wet from the drizzle. The corners of her eyes tightened as she clenched and unclenched her fist, her gauntlet hiding all but the tiniest flickers of green energy emanating from her left fist. Cassandra noticed it all. 

Trev stepped up next to Cassandra, despite standing a full hair shorter, the way the crowd shifted their attention was unmistakable. The youngest scion of House Trevelyan had grown into her role as both the Herald and Inquisitor. 

Trev shot Cassandra a not-so-subtle look, her eyes darting between the captured Mayor and herself. Cassandra nodded and signalled to Bull to stay with Trev while she walked up to the soldier. “Let’s get the former Mayor to our camp.”

As Cassandra headed back, she took one backwards glance. She couldn’t see Trev among the crowd at all, like Trev had been swallowed up by them. Only the knowledge that Bull was with Trev gave her the confidence to walk away. 

* * *

They didn't have spare tents to house Dedrick, but the command post Harding had set up for them remained available, if nothing else they could all get out of the infernal rain. Cassandra had hoped the weather would let up soon like it did the day before. After ordering Dedrick to be untied, she asked if he needed food or water. He stared at her, to say he was surprised didn’t even begin to describe the way he looked. “Yes please.”

Cassandra sighed as she watched the man ate. In the eyes of the law and the Maker, Dedrick had committed a foul act. Drowning innocents, she shook her head inwardly, she couldn't fathom committing that abhorrent act. It took the lives of so many innocents. Walking the previously flooded Old Crestwood, seeing the bloated bodies trapped under debris where they drowned, it made her angry. There were few worse ways to die. 

Dedrick sat with his head in his hands when he finished the simple meal of bread and cheese. Cassandra would keep him safe until Trev sent words regarding his deposition, but she couldn’t condone his actions. Justice would be served. It would be up to the Maker to have mercy on his soul. She stood and planted herself outside the command post, leaving the other soldiers to watch him. She was more worried about the blood thirsty mob than Dedrick making a run for it. Cassandra hoped the situation wouldn’t devolved into violence. 

The rain finally abated near midday. Though the sky remained grey and gloomy, the bite of chill seared their lungs, their things could finally begin to dry. Trev returned, her face ashen and pale, water still dripping from her hair. Bull followed on her heels, but he peeled away, making a beeline to the cook fires that had just been rekindled. “I’m starving, he muttered. 

“Go wring out the water from your clothes.” Dorian ladelled Bull a bowl of soup. 

Bull ignored him and reached out towards the warm soup only to be met with Dorian's scoop. He brandishing it about like a staff. “Kaffas! I’m cold enough, you do not want me to use fire to dry your clothes while you’re still wearing it.”

Trev brushed past Cassandra to enter the command post, disregarding the trail of water she trekked in. She stopped right in front of Dedrick, her left hand cracking with bright green energy rested on the pommel of her sword belted to her hip. Dedrick nearly folded himself into two in his attempt to cower away. Trev hadn't even spoken a word. She took a shuddering breath as she straightened her back and set her shoulders, as if moving an immense weight hellbent on breaking her spine.

"Former Crestwood Mayor Gregory Dedrick," she said, her voice hoarse and raspy. 

Had Trev been shouting at the mob all this time? Cassandra made a note to ask Bull about it later. 

Trev took another deep breath. "You have been sentenced to death. The people have spoken. Your sentence will be carried out tomorrow at dawn."

Dedrick deflated, if he could sink into the dirt beneath his feet, he would have. Eyes squeezed shut, his shoulders shook as muffled sobs escaped his poor attempts to stifle them. Trev crouched down, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. He flinched. "Do you need someone to speak to you?" she asked. "A Chantry Mother perhaps?"

Dedrick couldn't reply, he had his head between his hands. All Cassandra heard were his repeated whispers. "Maker please forgive me, I did the best I could. I did the best I could."

Trev staggered back at those words. That vein at her temple throbbed against her skin, her eyes narrowed in that familiar way, Cassandra stifled the urge to bundle the Inquisitor up in furs and feed her what probably was her first meal of the day. But Trev's job wasn't done. She jerked a hand towards the nearest soldier. "Make sure he gets double rations, find him a spare set of clothes so that he can change out of his wet one, and see if you get find a Chantry Mother or similar later."

The soldier thumped her fist against her chest and hurried off to see to Trev's orders. Before Cassandra could speak, Trev turned to her. She tugged on her arm so that they were out of Dedrick's earshot. "I need you to watch him." 

All it took was just one look, Cassandra understood what Trev didn’t put into words. "I will make sure he is safe."

Trev gripped her arm. Her fingers were ice cold. "No matter what he did, regardless if we agree with his actions or not, he should have his last day." Her eyes rested on Dedrick's form, still crying and weeping in turns. Her gaze pained, it held a sorrow in them, but it quickly hardened as she drew herself up. "Thank you, I knew I could count on you."

Trev didn't head to the cook fires despite Dorian calling out to her. She shook her head and headed back towards Crestwood. "I'll eat later." And that was the last Cassandra saw of Trev until she returned to their shared tent that night. 

* * *

Cassandra looked up when she heard the tent flap move. Trev stepped in. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, her armour dripping wet. When the sun departed for the day, the rain returned in earnest. As soon as she stepped in, Trev's shoulders drooped, as if she was shrugging off the persona of the Inquisitor and returning to the woman underneath that veneer of strength and power. Maybe, Cassandra liked to think, Trev felt safe enough with her to let go of the mask. She wasted no time and helped Trev out of her armour, stacking it in a pile and spreading out whatever that needed drying. 

Trev stood shivering in her damp small clothes. Brushing her hand against Trev's skin, she could feel the unnatural heat coming from her. "Are you feeling all right?" she asked. 

"Tired, exhausted." Trev stripped out of her small clothes and stood shivering, naked as the day she was born. 

Cassandra handed her a spare set of clothes. "Let me look at your wound before you put on your shirt." She worked quickly, unwinding the bandages and studying the wound. Trev caught the claws of a Horror across her back. It remained puckered and red, but it could have been so much worse. As she reapplied the salve over it, she could feel the heat coming from it. It didn't look good, but it wasn't infected — not yet. With the weather the way it was and the need to remain in armour, it was bound to happen sooner rather than later. 

"Can you hurry? I'm really cold," Trev said, her teeth chattering slightly. 

Cassandra caught herself. The bandages went back on like it did the night before. She noticed Trev pulling on the night shirt from yesterday instead of the fresh one, she dismissed it from her mind. It wasn't important. When she sat Trev on her bedroll, bundled up under the blankets, she asked, "Have you eaten anything all day?"

Trev shrugged, yawning as she rubbed her face. "Maybe some jerky and water?"

"The entire day?"

Trev shrugged again. "I think so? I had been busy."

Cassandra sighed. "Do not sleep. I'm going to get you some soup." Trev stretched like a cat and winced when it tugged on her wound, not at all acknowledging her. "Trev, did you hear me?" she asked from the threshold of their tent. 

"Yes I did," she replied, stifling another big yawn with her hand. "Not to sleep, but you don't have to go. I'm not hungry. I'm just tired. And it's raining."

"Don't worry about me. What's a little water?" 

She returned with the last of the stew the soldiers had made for dinner. Trev was still sitting up, but her head rested on her hand and _that_ was braced against her knee. Her posture looked unsteady as she put more and more weight against her hand, she saved herself from thumping her head right against her knee by jerking up right again. Cassandra couldn't help but chuckled. 

"Trev," she called out. "What did I say?"

"Not to sleep," she muttered without opening her eyes. "I'm not sleeping. I just resting my eyes. Just... resting... them..."

Cassandra shook Trev's shoulder. She peeled her eyes open with a groan. "Hmmm?" 

"Stew. You should eat." Cassandra thrusted the bowl into Trev's hands. 

Finding a comfortable spot, she sat and watched as Trev chased the meagre bits of meat and vegetables around in the bowl with her spoon. Noticing that she was watching, Trev sipped from the edges of the bowl just to appease her. The longer Cassandra observed Trev, the sadder Trev looked. If a stew didn't fix that, maybe talking about might. 

“Are you all right?” Cassandra asked. “Is it Dedrick—”

“You know I don’t blame him,” Trev cut in. Her voice hushed. Steam wafting up from the bowl between her hands, obscuring her face from Cassandra's view. Trev had her head bow as if she was speaking to the bowl instead to her. “I don’t blame Dedrick for flooding Old Crestwood.”

Cassandra stilled. The silence rang while the air stung her nostrils. Trev pulled the blankets tighter around her shoulders. “He did what he thought best. Dark spawn at the door, his town and the people behind him, he had to make the tough choices.”

“Are you saying he did the right thing?” 

Trev spooned more soup into her mouth, but Cassandra could see she barely drank any. Trev put the bowl down on her lap, holding it more for the warmth than for sustenance. She lifted her eyes to meet Cassandra’s. In the flickering yellow light from the oil lamp, Trev’s brown eyes took on a golden hue. There was a depth and weariness not there before, not even when Cassandra had her chained in the dungeons of Haven’s Chantry. Being the Inquisitor had aged Trev. 

“I’m not saying I agree with what he did,” she said as she released her hair from its bun. Black locks cascaded down her shoulders. “I’m just saying I understand _why_ he did it. It’s not an easy choice. Far better that he had done something than nothing at all.”

Cassandra didn’t reply. She nodded, an acknowledgement to Trev’s words rather than agreeing with her. Dedrick had spent the entire day locked in a state of shock. Praying and weeping as a Chantry Mother spoke the words of the Maker to comfort him. She had experience in making difficult decisions in combat, even pulling away from the Chantry to declare the reformation of the Inquisition had been hard, but she had the steadfast support of everyone around her. Dedrick hadn't had that. What did it mean if Trev could see herself in Dedrick? Cassandra hadn’t considered this before. Trev, like Dedrick held power over people. Like he, her decisions determined life and death. _How hard had Trev agonised over every decisions she makes?_

Cassandra drew herself up and took the bowl from Trev’s loose fingers. She resolved, if she could help it, Trev would never stand alone. 

“Come on, I think it’s time for bed.”

Trev didn’t fight her, her eye lids already drooping. By the time Cassandra had disposed of the leftover stew — tossing it to the mabari, Trev was asleep, curled up on her side. Even in her sleep, Cassandra could see the day's event weighed upon her, frowning in her sleep as her anchor flared and crackled. Hopefully after the sentence was carried out tomorrow, they would be able to depart Crestwood and put all of this behind them. 

* * *

Cassandra grunted and rolled over. She encountered no resistance. In fact, the other bedroll was stone cold. That woke her right up. It was early enough that no light streamed in from the seams of the tent flap. This was new. Trev almost never wake before she did. Feeling a little concerned, she dressed quickly and tided up their packs. When she emerged from the tent, the sun had barely started to rise. The sky was clear for the first time in weeks. Bull sat at the fire nursing a hot cup of coffee judging from the fragrance. She shot him a questioning look, and he jerked his head at the command post. 

Cassandra strode over to find Trev couched on one knee, speaking in low tones to Dedrick. In the pre-dawn light, with the mist clinging in the air, the Inquisitor looked like a spectre warrior. The rings around Trev’s eyes marked her exhaustion. She must not have slept more than a couple of hours. Trev motioned to the soldiers, and they flanked Dedrick and followed her. Trev’s eyes met hers when she stepped out of the command post. The sadness from last night had entrenched itself in them. 

“It’s time.”

Cassandra nodded. With Trev leading the way, they made their way back into Crestwood proper. Step by step, they drew near the town square. A platform rose into view. The closer they got, the slower Dedrick walked. The soldiers had to hoist him to his feet when he crumpled to the ground, weeping softly. Cassandra set her jaw and strode forward, but Trev got there before she did. This time she heard what Trev said to Dedrick. 

“You can’t choose many things in life, most don’t get to choose their end. You do decide how you face it. Are you going to stand by your decisions you made, believing they were the right thing to do? Or are you going to cry and wailing, telling everyone you regret them?”

Dedrick didn’t answer, but he found his feet. 

“Do you believe you did the best you could? Do you believe you’ve done everything to the best of your abilities?”

The former Mayor nodded. 

“Then act like it.”

Without waiting for another response, Trev turned around and walked on, her shoulders achingly stiff. The weight Thedas had put upon Trev, no they— _she_ had been done this, had forced the Inquisitor mature and grow beyond her years. As much as Cassandra's ribs clenched tight around her heart, she didn't think the Inquisition could do much better than Lexington Trevelyan. She was proud to follow Trev's lead. 

Pretty soon, the platform came into full view. The sight of it made Cassandra's breath stab painfully against her lungs. She had expected to see a raised stump, a cross bar, some ropes and a noose. Instead, there was only a stump. It was going to be a beheading. 

_Who is going to be the executioner?_

Her eyes scanned the gathering crowd. Despite the pre-dawn hour, a substantial number of people gathered around. Dorian and Bull positioned themselves among them, hopefully they would be able to hold back the bloodlust if it came down to it. A handful of townsfolk stood on the platform. As Trev, Dedrick and the soldiers mounted the steps up to the platform, Cassandra kept her distance, standing at the foot of the platform. Her feet refused to budge any further. She reasoned she could keep the more violent minded town folks from Trev by guarding the foot of the platform. 

Folding her arms across her chest, she noticed Trev's sword buckled to her back. Cassandra herself had a sword too, as did the Inquisition’s soldiers. Nobody else was visibly armed. Her mouth went dry. Trev intended to do it herself. She wouldn't allowed anyone to stand in for her. The crowd would accept nothing short of the Inquisitor carrying out this bloody sentence. Somewhere at the back of her mind she could feel her pulse racing, her heart making a valiant attempt to smash through her rib cage to escape. 

The muttering that rippled across the crowd turned into shouted curses. Dedrick shrank back. Trev positioned herself in front of him, shielding him from the people's fury.

_No._

Trev lifted her hands. The crowd quietened down. Her mouth moved, words to silence, words to appease, words to calm. But Cassandra heard none of it. Despite her martial appearance, she didn't feel powerful or strong at that moment. Sounds grew muted and far away as her breath got caught in her throat.

Trev was done speaking. She turned to Dedrick, he nodded a couple of times. Step by slow agonising step, he walked up to the stump. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, it crawled across Cassandra's bare skin, leaving her feeling sick. 

_Please, no._

Cassandra knew what would happen, she could see it in her mind's eye, but it couldn't compare to the scene unfolding before her. With her gut clenching and roiling, Dedrick knelt before on the stump and soldiers forced his head against it and tied him down. His head twisted to one side, his eyes seemed to bore right into hers. Cassandra grew lightheaded. Trev stood over him. Her blade came free of its scabbard in one smooth motion. It caught the sun just right, reflecting the light right into crowd. They flinched as one. 

Crestwood had been days and weeks of miserable rain and gloom, but in this one moment when they were going to execute a man who had only bad choices to make in a horrible time, the weather was finally pleasant. The sun now fully risen, brightened the blue sky. A breeze set the leaves rustling across the square. 

The soldiers stepped away. Trev bent one more time to whisper something into Dedrick's ear. When she straightened, she held the blade aloft, but Cassandra never saw it fall. One moment she stood in Crestwood, the next she was gone. 


	2. your mind's a mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blade was too big, too heavy. Its point dragged along in the dirt as she struggled with it. This was heavier than all her wooden training ones. Tears stinging her eyes, she fought to wrestle that infernal blade up, but all she managed was cutting a furrow across the ground. She stared at her palm — red and raw — despite the hours she put into training. She let out a cry of frustration. 
> 
> How did it go so wrong? A simple ride for pleasure had turned into her worst nightmare. Dressed in a stupid frilly dress because Anthony said she looked pretty in it, they took the horses out at dawn without the usual guards. Why did they need them anyway? With Anthony an accomplished dragon hunter, she a budding swordswoman, they could fend off anything that came their way. 

The blade was too big, too heavy. Its point dragged along in the dirt as she struggled with it. This was heavier than all her wooden training ones. Tears stinging her eyes, she fought to wrestle that infernal blade up, but all she managed was cutting a furrow across the ground. She stared at her palm — red and raw — despite the hours she put into training. She let out a cry of frustration. 

How did it go so wrong? A simple ride for pleasure had turned into her worst nightmare. Dressed in a stupid frilly dress because Anthony said she looked pretty in it, they took the horses out at dawn without the usual guards. Why did they need them anyway? With Anthony an accomplished dragon hunter, she a budding swordswoman, they could fend off anything that came their way. 

But it went wrong the moment they rode out of the city. A group of men approached them. They were looking specifically for Anthony. Sitting on her stead, unhappy their precious morning being frittered away entertaining these strangers. She noticed the swords belted at their hips under their heavy cloaks. The situation didn’t warrant the tension sizzling in the air. She tightened her grip on her sword, uneasy and wary. 

It happened so fast. One moment she was next to Anthony, their horses standing shoulder to shoulder, the next he got yanked off his horse, and their blades drawn. 

“Go!” Anthony yelled, slapping the rump of her horse. 

She screamed as the horse took off, churning up mud and dirt clods. Forcing herself to head back to the estate, despite wishing to go back for Anthony, took all her willpower. She arrived, shouting and yelling to get the guards to follow. They scrambled after her. By the time she returned, Anthony and the strangers had disappeared. Scanning the ground, she found tracks. Thankfully, they were very fresh. It led them to a nearby ruins rumoured to be the site of blood magic practitioners. 

She didn’t care if she was ten, she didn’t care if she was _too young_ , she screamed her fury and charged in with the household guards following her lead. For a moment, with the wind in her hair, she felt powerful, invincible. That all vanished in an instant when she met her first opponent. 

Her blade raised to meet him, but he dodged out of her reach and yanked at her dress. One moment, she screamed her defiance, the next her face met mud. All her training went out of her mind. Her stomach lurched sideways as her heart clenched so tight she thought she'd die. Her blade slipped from her grip, she lost her balance, the only thing she did right was to let go off the reins, lest she got dragged by her horse. Air rushed out of her lungs as she fell. Curling up in a ball, she prayed she didn't get trampled. When the sound of battle got further away, she stood, feeling worse than all the hours of training combined. 

A scream rang out, a voice utterly familiar like it was her own. There! Anthony was fighting. He had a blade, with it he was invincible, Cassandra believed it, but that didn't mean she wouldn't help. Her own smaller, lighter blade was nowhere to be found, she reached for the first sword she spotted on the ground. It belonged to one of the strangers. Eyes glazed over, mouth opened wide in a silent scream, his guts spilled onto the mud — dead. For a split second, she couldn't take her eyes away from the body. Her gut roiled uncomfortably. 

Another cry came, snapping her out of it. 

And that was how she found herself dragging a sword too heavy for her across the field, racing towards her brother. Lungs heaving, thighs protesting, she ran. Her boots slipping and sliding in the churned mud, she stumbled only to find her footing again. 

Their household guards were engaged in combat. Anthony battled two men himself. Only she could help. He was her brother, her only family. She wanted to make him proud, she yelled on top of her lungs and joined the fray. The men kept their focus on Anthony and ignored her. She'd show them how stupid that was. 

She heaved the blade and swung. The blade sliced through the air, whistling as it went. The hit connected against the plate the man wore underneath his heavy cloak. The force jarred up her arms, setting her teeth rattling. This time, she kept her grip. The man whirled to face her. Good, she had garnered his attention. He rushed her, blade leading the way. Back pedalling, she fell, the mud fouling her feet. Fear became a tangible weight against her chest. All the bravado, all the good intentions flushed out of her mind as she lay in the mud. 

Anthony spun, pushing his opponent away to attack the man looming over her. The man screamed. Metal slipping into the seam at his armpit. With a twist, Anthony's blade punched through the man's neck. The man didn't even have time to fight back, blood dribbling from his mouth. Cassandra grinned, pride filled her chest. This was her brother, the great Dragon Hunter. 

"Cassandra," he panted, reaching out to pull her to her feet. 

Then—

His brown eyes so keen, so full of life, focused wholly on her, widened for a split second. She didn't see what happened next, not truly, because red filled her vision. It wasn't hers. It belonged to Anthony. In the mere seconds it took to wipe the blood from her eyes, Anthony's head had disappeared. Nothing but a stump remained on his shoulders, spraying blood all over her. His body still stood standing for a couple of seconds before it fell on her. 

Cassandra Pentaghast screamed and screamed. 

* * *

It was done. Trev found herself rooted to the spot, eyes staring at the man who was alive just moments ago. She clenched and unclenched her fists. His opened sightless eyes stared at her. Even in death, Dedrick couldn't escape fear and panic. It took her three cuts to get it done. Even now, she could feel it, the way her blade hit bone with the first stroke. The second sent vibrations up her arm, the third ended with Dedrick's head rolling off the stump, landing face up, staring at her with sightless eyes. Her gut churned. Something hot and burning crawled up her throat into her mouth. She gagged. Pressing a hand against her mouth, she swallowed hard. It wouldn’t do for the Inquisitor to vomit now. 

Glanced at the crowd, she realised most still remained. They stared at her as if waiting for a speech, as if expecting her to hold Dedrick's severed head aloft and declare justice served. The thought made her stomach roiled. What exactly was one supposed to do once an execution was completed? She had no clue, and she wanted out now. The entire thing made her sick. Executing Dedrick made her feel dirty, soiled. Teeth gritted, she took a step back, nearly slipping on the pooling blood. She turned to the newly elected Mayor. “Make sure he gets a proper burial.”

He sneered. “Dedrick deserves no such thing—”

Trev snarled and stepped close, blood still dripping off the tip of her sword, bits of bone and flesh still stuck to her armour. But that weren't what made the new Mayor stagger backwards, it was the fury in her eyes. 

“Dedrick has already been punished.”

“Yes, yes, he has,” the new Mayor stammered. 

“You now stand where he once stood, do not be so quick to judge,” she said, her voice tight and quiet. “This isn't such an easy job as you will find out soon.” Spinning on her heel, she walked away. “See it done.”

“I… I will.”

Despite this show of confidence, the urge to vomit remained strong. She had to get away quickly. Stepping off the platform, she searched for Cassandra. The Seeker usually kept close to Trev, but this time she was nowhere to be seen. Disappointment hit Trev in the chest in a way she didn't expect. Before she could leave, the crowd swarmed her. All of them cheering when she had just murdered a man. Nothing else could make her feel worse. Every new praise, each pat on her back, made her gut clenched tighter. The churning got worse, and she could feel that acidic sour bile lodged in her throat. 

Trev barged her way through the crowd. She made it far away enough from them to lean over the nearest bush and vomited. Tears stinging her eyes, her throat felt like it had been scrapped raw. Footsteps approached. She started but realised it was Bull and Dorian. 

“Are you okay?” Dorian asked, hurrying to her side. 

Trev moved to wipe her chin with the back of her hand only to realise it was coated in blood. That made her gag and heave again. Nothing else came up. She hadn’t eaten or drank since the stew the night before. 

“No,” she rasped. 

Dorian offered her his handkerchief, reluctance stamped on his face. “You can keep it,” he said even before she took it out of his hand. 

Trev wiped her mouth, then her hands. Her back was sore, her head throbbed, her skin on fire, and she desperately wanted a bath. But most of all, she wanted to leave Crestwood and never come back again. 

* * *

The spikes of lightning stabbing her temples eased into a dull throb the instant Crestwood disappeared from view. Despite the steady drizzle that started up the moment they rode out, Trev breathed a little easier. Her fingers though numb and stiff, the wet was slowly but surely seeping under her cloak, it didn’t matter. Putting distance between her and Crestwood felt like victory already. 

“Come on, it’s only a little rain,” Bull said from his mount. He and Dorian rode a little behind Trev. 

Trev could feel the sheer death glare Dorian levelled at Bull. “Kaffas,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Nature is good for the soul, it helps cleanse your body of the fouls a city can bring,” Bull went on. Rain ran in rivulets down his torso and dripped off the tips of his horn. He did not look cold in the slightest despite wearing the least amount of clothes. 

Dorian near vibrated with frustration. With a yell, a burst of heat shot out in a bubble around him. For one brief moment, the rain didn’t reach Dorian, the energy super heating the rain and vaporising it, but that lasted for one snap moment and the rain came back down again. His mount startled and side stepped in alarm, nearly unseating Dorian. Bull roared with laughter as he reached out to grab the reins of Dorian’s horse. 

“Do that again!” Bull roared.

Trev turned around to face the front in time to see the frown between Cassandra’s brow. Her face though oddly pale and drawn, her signature displeasure clear. She groaned and turned to face the front. 

Nudging her mount to pick up the pace, Trev drew up next to Cassandra. They rode a good distance side by side. Cassandra remained quiet. Trev prided herself having a good read on Cassandra’s moods, recognising the layers to her silences. This wasn’t the companionable one. In fact this one felt as stiff and hard like the line of Cassandra’s shoulders. She leaned forward and peered at the Seeker. Cassandra pretended not to see her, but surely Trev was well within her vision. 

“Is everything all right?” Trev asked eventually, unable to stand this thick wall of suffocating tension she didn't understand.

“Yes.” 

The reply curt and short, wielded like an abrasive file, warning Trev if she continued forcing herself against it, she’d be scrapped raw faster than she could break through. But Trev was nothing if not stubborn. 

“Are you… angry?”

That caught Cassandra’s attention. Her head snapped to Trev. “No.” 

That was what Cassandra said, but the corners of her eyes tightened, creasing ever so slightly, they held a flinty gaze Trev hadn’t seen since the early days at Haven. She shrank back and allowed Cassandra to pull ahead of her. They rode the rest of the dreary wet day in silence, the heavy, uncomfortable kind. 

* * *

The rest of the day just went by in that odd silence. It pricked against Trev's skin like an itch she couldn't reach. All she could do was watch and wait. That night, Cassandra sat apart from the rest, spooning the stew into her mouth mechanically, her mind a thousand miles away. Trev bit down on her spoon, her gaze trained on Cassandra. Worry gnawed at her gut. It hurt more than the wound on her back. 

"I'm turning in," Cassandra said as she stood abruptly. "I'll take the last watch."

"Okay," Trev replied. She was the only who did. Dorian and Bull had been bickering relentlessly since the morning. 

Trev had hoped the bickering would prompt Cassandra to roll her eyes, or to ask them to stop, but all Cassandra did was to head into the tent they share without a single backward glance. She exhaled and turned to face the fire. Her stew, though only half eaten, no longer seemed appetising. 

Dorian had stomped into the tent he shared with Bull. "Fine, you can sit out there with your wet clothes. I will not dry them for you!"

"It's fine, I'm taking the first watch," Bull replied, chuckling. "I can sit by the fire and dry off."

Trev would normally be amused, but today she was just tired. Maybe she should get an early night too. She finished the rest of her stew. "Dorian's taking second watch?"

Bull nodded, but Dorian's muffled voice came from inside the tent "I will not, Bull can do both himself if he refused to shut up about the poor state of my clothes. This is a travesty." He burst out of his tent shirtless. "Trevelyan, I thought you think of me as your friend, why did you bring me to this hell hole?" He didn't wait for her response and went back into his tent muttering a string of Tevinter curses she didn't understand. 

Trev exchanged a glance with Bull who just shrugged those massive shoulders of his. She sighed. "Just don't aggravate him, all right? Crestwood has been trying."

Bull sighed. His smile fading like it was nothing more than a mask. "What about you?"

"What about me?" She cocked her head. Rinsing the utensils she had used, she placed them near the fire. Not everyone had the ability to use fire magic to dry things. 

"The..." Bull made a chopping motion with his hand. "Are you all right?"

Trev shuddered and stared at Dorian's tent instead. Steam escaped from the seams. She hoped he would be careful and not burn the tent down instead. "I did it, that's all there is to it."

He hummed, not sounding at all convinced. "That's all? And that's why you're puking your guts out in a bush?" 

She could see why Dorian got so pissed off. This needling was bound to backfire on Bull one day. Eyes flat, she glared. "I killed a man. I've killed people before. I'm fine."

"Not like this."

"I have—"

"Fighting dark spawn, demons and corrupt Red Templars isn't an execution. In combat, you kill or be killed. This is different." His gaze was steady and unwavering. 

Trev's lips pressed thin, her teeth ground against each other. The need to take a bath grew stronger. She swallowed hard against her rising gorge. "I am going to bed." Without giving Bull a chance to continue, she dusted the seat of her pants and headed into the tent. 

She had expected Cassandra to still be up, maybe cleaning her armour or polishing her sword, instead she saw nothing but a lump in the middle of her bedroll. She listened. Cassandra’s breath sounded even and regular. Dismissing her worry, she decided Cassandra must have been felt as worn down by Crestwood as she was. 

Trev shedded her armour like a snake did its skin. She moved as quietly as she could manage, spreading out her wet clothes. It was only when she was down to her smalls that she remembered she had to reapply the salve. Unwinding the bandaging she found it was soiled with yellowish-brown stains and it stink. Wrinkling her nose, she did the best she could, awkwardly twisting and turning to get at the wound. Not bothering with fresh bandages, she threw on a loose shirt — not Cassandra’s because she didn’t want to soil it — and lay down. Her joints and muscles ached like she had been training with Cassandra all day. Pulling her blanket up to her neck, she tucked her hands into her armpits, trying to ward off the chill and allowed sleep to take her away. 

* * *

Pain flared across her back. Something had hit her. Her eyes snapped open instantly, tears springing to her eyes. “Fuck.” A whispered curse uttered through clenched teeth as she lay still, allowing the pain to wash over her. Something connected against her legs. Trev rolled over and found Cassandra shaking. 

The throbbing on her back forgotten, she scooted closer. With the meagre light the moon provided, she reached out and found Cassandra’s flailing arms easily enough. It became pretty clear that was what hit her earlier. A whimper escaped Cassandra’s lips. The sound made her chest tightened. “No, please,” Cassandra pleaded. 

Trev ran her hand through Cassandra’s sweat dampened hair, hoping to bring her back to consciousness without making things worse. “Cassandra, wake up,” she whispered. 

Cassandra’s breathing grew strained, and Trev started to panic. This had never happened before. She was the one who had nightmares, she was the one who always had Cassandra to draw her out of them and provide comfort. What was she supposed to do? Hands gripping Cassandra’s shoulders, she shook. Cassandra twisted away, groaning as if pained. 

“Cassandra, wake up. This is a nightmare.”

Trev threw her weight in it, shaking harder, hoping that it would do the trick. “Come on, wake up.”

Just as Trev considered hitting Cassandra to wake her up and what must would be her rapidly shrinking life span after doing that, she gasped and sit up abruptly. Trev flinched and then held still. Cassandra gulped for air like she was a woman starved for it. As her chest heaved, Trev rubbed a hand against her back, hoping to provide some relief. “You’re okay. Just a nightmare, just breathe,” she whispered. 

Long minutes passed as Cassandra fought for control, eventually her long gasping breaths calmed. When it did, she leaned away from Trev’s hand. Trev got the massage. Scooting back on her butt, she gave Cassandra space. With her head buried in her hands, Cassandra didn't move. Trev’s wound made itself known again now that the excitement died away.

The wind picked up. The tent flaps though secured, flopped open and close within their bindings, letting the dim moonlight in. In between the space of dark and not-so-dark, Trev offered a water skin to Cassandra, but instead of accepting it, she shrank back. _That look_ returned. Trev couldn’t help feel Cassandra looked at her with disgust and revulsion 

The beheading had to be the cause. Why else had this odd tension suddenly sprang up between them? 

Pushing Trev's hand away, Cassandra muttered, “I’m going to take watch now.”

“But—” The tent flap fell back in Cassandra’s wake. “It’s not even the fourth watch yet.”

Dorian’s surprised grunt drifted over, and a muttered exchange of words followed. He groaned and stretched. Dragging feet headed towards the other tent. Silence reigned after that. Trev bit her lip, the water skin still hung limply from her fingers. Shaking her head, she shoved those thoughts from her mind. Telling herself to ignore those tiny pinpricks of doubt and hurt was an exercise in futility, she had to try anyway. Tossing the water skin back where she got it from, she burrowed back under the blanket, ignoring her wound, the chill that took hold in her bones. 

Maybe things would be better in the morning. 

* * *

Trev would like to think she had grown familiar with the ins and outs of Cassandra's usual behaviour. Silences — these came standard issued with every Seeker, probably, maybe. Well, it was definitely a significant part of Cassandra. Talk was cheap after all, actions spoke louder. Though Cassandra might not speak, she wasn’t completely silent. Her opinions were always made clear regardless of speech. She'd snort, grunt, groan, chuckle and sometimes laugh. 

This silence, the one that wrapped around her like a solid barrier, the one that felt cold and sharp, the one that Trev wanted to breach but didn't dare to, not after that night, was anything but normal. 

Trev sighed. She rode behind Cassandra, trying to blink through the throbbing against her temples that refused to leave her alone. Despite their steady march into the Frostbacks, her skin felt uncomfortably hot for days on end. If it wasn’t the rain, it was this heat that was radiating from her skin. This trip had been nothing but terrible. 

Cassandra had always been always a pillar by her side. In fact, now that Trev thought about it, Cassandra was a permanent member of her party, no matter where she went, no matter why she travelled. Cassandra's presence used to chafe because Trev could do nothing right in her eyes — too reckless, too distracted, too unlike how a proper Herald should behave. It grated. How was she supposed to know how a Herald was supposed to act? There wasn’t one before, was there? 

Now… Trev stared at Cassandra’s back, ramrod straight, stiff shoulders and a set jaw, her thoughts as impenetrable as her shield. Trev tightened her grip on her reins. Cassandra had always been protective of her. Trev had initially assumed it had been because of her status as Herald and being the only one who could close rifts. That would warrant Cassandra's protectiveness. Before they left Creastwood, Trev would like to think Cassandra remained so because they were friends, good friends even. But after that night, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Even though she didn’t think she did anything wrong — _you did, you did_ — she couldn’t help but feel like she had disappointed Cassandra somehow — _you did, you did_.

The feeling only had the room to fester and grow in the silence that surrounded Cassandra. Trev looked forward to reaching Skyhold. Maybe then, she would stop feeling like she needed a bath all the damn time. 

* * *

"What happened?" 

Trev ducked her head. She didn't have a mirror, but she knew her jaw had an impressive bruise. It certainly felt like it. "Nothing." She walked towards the cook fire and picked up her portion of breakfast. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to get the grit from them. Sleep had been terrible. 

"That looks like a very big fat nothing," Dorian pointed out, he glanced at Bull. 

Bull shrugged. "Such a nothing that I bet it hurts to even eat."

Trev sighed and sat down next to Dorian. Dorian's mood had improved vastly since the daily drizzle became a thing of the past. His complaints had shifted to freezing cold temperatures. Trev was inclined to agree. Ostwick was never this cold. She had been feeling off since Crestwood so maybe this was the reason. 

"I just fell all right?" she growled, stuffing the hard bread into her mouth. Bull was right, chewing hurt. 

"No shit, you fell huh?" Bull retorted, his voice flat and deadpan. "Last night?"

Before Trev could speak, Cassandra exited their tent and walked right up to her. A healing potion was thrusted in her face. "Sorry about the jaw." 

When Trev was a little too slow in taking the potion, Cassandra dropped it onto her lap. "It won't heal the bruise any quicker, but it should help with the pain. I'm sorry." As quickly it happened, Cassandra disappeared again. Opting to start striking the tent down and packing up so that they could leave, instead of having her breakfast. 

Trev sighed. Her fingers curling around the neck of the healing potion. This pained her in more ways than physical. Bull snorted and went to strike the tent he shared with Dorian, leaving the mage sitting with her. "So you fell..."

"Into Cassandra's elbow," she completed the sentence. 

He hummed. "May I?" His smirk all but disappeared, leaving only an indulgent smile perched on his lips. "Come on, it must hurt. It even hurts me just looking at it."

"All right."

Taking her chin between his fingers, Dorian tilted her face so that he could see the bruise better. Trev hissed. That old fear of magic, ingrained by her father, flared up, twisting her guts. 

_Just endure, this is Dorian. You know him, you trust him._

It still was difficult to untangle what was true about magic and mages, and what was merely fear mongering by her father. Sitting here with her face inches away from Dorian's hand wasn't the place to start doing that. Her hand reached out, groping towards her side, searching for comfort that usually came in the form a solid hand taking hers. Today, there was none to be found. 

Cassandra's groan of frustration came from the other side of camp. Trev turned to look, like a flower seeking the sun, like it was the most natural thing to do. She wanted to know what bothered Cassandra, to see if she could help. "Stop that," Dorian said, tightening his grip on her chin, tugging it so that he could see what was working with. "You can look at her later."

Trev opened her mouth to protest, and he rolled his eyes. A warmth spread across her jaw, tickling her skin. As quickly as it started, it stopped. Dorian let go of her chin, and she worked it, opening and closing to test if it still hurt. It was sore but no longer hindered her eating. 

“Thank you.” She resumed eating her breakfast. 

“So things got feisty between you two?” Dorian asked, bumping his shoulder into hers. 

Trev almost spilled her tea. “No,” she snapped. That made Cassandra turned to them. “No.” This one she muttered as she ducked her head. 

“I was joking, you know?”

“I know.”

“What exactly happened? You two have been really strange the entire trip back. A lover’s tiff perhaps?”

Trev glared at Dorian, not at all amused with his prodding. “We are not together. We’re friends, good friends even.” She sneaked a glance at Cassandra. “Now I’m not too sure.”

Dorian stared at her disbelievingly. Thankfully, he kept his remarks to himself. Trev wasn’t in the mood to being teased. She sighed. “What did you think about Dedrick?”

“What’s there to think about? He’s dead,” he replied, making the sound of a blade swinging through the air with his mouth. 

She grimaced and stared at her hand. The anchor’s green energy responded in kind, instead of the usual gentle swirls on her palm, jagged lines shot out from it. Dorian leaned over, curiosity written across his face. She closed her fist and dropped her arm by her side. “I feel like I’ve done something terrible. I feel like I should have done something else, you know?” Head bowed, she stared at the ground. “Am I a monster?”

Dorian bent over so that he could catch her eye. She twisted her face away, rubbing her hands over each other. The ghost vibrations of that blow still jarred up her arm. She could _still_ feel it. Would it ever go away?

He sighed and gave up trying to get her to look at him. “You know,” he said eventually, leaning back, arms bracing against the log they sat on. “I don’t envy you. I mean sure I’m way more stylish and handsome, and the Inquisition could use a little more flair, but I don’t want to be ever in your shoes.”

Trev snorted and stared at the Anchor. “If I could get rid of this, I would.”

“Alas, Thedas will never know what it’s like to have an Inquisitor that could dazzle Corypheus to death.” That dragged a little chuckle from her. “You did what you could. In the end, you gave the man the ability to face the end with some dignity. That has to count for something.”

“But I am the Inquisitor,” she pointed out, but her voice lacked conviction. “I should be able to do something.”

“The Inquisitor is also human.” Dorian pulled her against his side, squeezing her shoulder. 

Trev sighed, not at all convinced but what else there was to say? Dedrick was dead, Cassandra looked at her with revulsion, nothing was right. 

“I wish we never went to Crestwood.”

Dorian laughed. “I’ll drink to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	3. you're not alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sound of the blade whistling through the air made Trev flinched. She half expected to hear the wet noise of flesh and bone being parted. Instead the solid thunk of blade biting into wood rang out. Then another and another and another. She glanced over. Cassandra was putting her back into her training. Her blade found the straw dummy easily, slicing and cutting it into pieces. 
> 
> Trev had hoped things would improve once they returned. They could all forget about Crestwood and never think of it again. But if anything else, things just became even more awkward. Without conscious thought she walked over to the training ground like how she usually would. Instead of picking up a practise blade and asking Cassandra to spar with her, she stopped at the weapon stand. The barrier around Cassandra remained impenetrable. Despite the wall between them feeling as thick as before, Trev knew Cassandra was hurting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The meatiest chapter of them all.

The sound of the blade whistling through the air made Trev flinched. She half expected to hear the wet noise of flesh and bone being parted. Instead the solid thunk of blade biting into wood rang out. Then another and another and another. She glanced over. Cassandra was putting her back into her training. Her blade found the straw dummy easily, slicing and cutting it into pieces. 

Trev had hoped things would improve once they returned. They could all forget about Crestwood and never think of it again. But if anything else, things just became even more awkward. Without conscious thought she walked over to the training ground like how she usually would. Instead of picking up a practise blade and asking Cassandra to spar with her, she stopped at the weapon stand. The barrier around Cassandra remained impenetrable. Despite the wall between them feeling as thick as before, Trev knew Cassandra was hurting. 

“Cassandra,” she called. 

The Seeker swung her blade a couple more times at the dummy before turning around. Her gaze was wary, her stance stiff. “What is it, Inquisitor?”

Trev’s jaw tightened. It had been a long time since she was anything but Trev to Cassandra. It stung to hear the title coming out of Cassandra’s mouth. “Is everything all right?” 

“What makes you think things are not?” Cassandra replied, planting the point of the blade against the ground. 

Whatever ate at Cassandra remained tightly held back, hidden under layers of professionalism and stoicism. Trev clasped her arms behind her back. Physical touch didn’t come to her naturally, but the urge to pull Cassandra into a hug felt overwhelming. However, it would also be inappropriate. Trev settled for tightening her grip around her own wrist.

“Inquisitor, let me give you my formal apology again. I didn’t meant to hit you.” Cassandra grimaced. 

Trev shook her head. “You don’t need to…”

But Cassandra went on over her. “I should not have done that regardless. And have your wound been dealt with? I heard it got infected, and you had a fever?”

Trev just stared. “I am fine, but are you okay? Things has been…”

“I’m fine, Inquisitor,” Cassandra’s voice sliced like a blade through Trev’s words. “They were just nightmares, nothing we have not already dealt with before. It will not happen again, I promise. I have got it under control.”

It had all went sideways. Far from letting her know what was wrong, Cassandra clamped up as tight as one of Sera’s jar of bees. Trev read the aversion in Cassandra’s eyes. She grimaced, unsure how to make things right again. Why was Cassandra lying? 

“Is there anything else Inquisitor?” 

Trev took a step back, realising to press the issue would get her nowhere. If she wasn’t a good enough friend for Cassandra to confide in her, she needed help. Leliana — the spymaster would know. She had served the previous Divine beside Cassandra for years. If anyone could help, she would be the one. Trev only hoped whatever she had done — _You failed Dedrick, you murdered a man trying his best._ — she would be able to repair it — _You can’t bring a dead man to life._ She treasured this friendship with Cassandra.She would do anything in her power to fix things. 

Trev took a deep breath. She shook her head and bowed. “I’m sorry for disturbing your training. I shall take my leave.”

Cassandra had already turned back to the dummy before she was done speaking. She couldn’t say how long she stood there staring at Cassandra’s back. It hurt, more than she expected. A pain that reached deeper into her chest. 

“Inquisitor!” Josephine called out. “There you are, we’re waiting on you to start the meeting.”

Trev sighed. Casting one more backward glance at Cassandra, she left. 

* * *

Trev lay in her bed. She spread her limbs out, sinking into the mattress — too big, too soft. She buried herself under the blanket as silence rang loud in her ears — too cold, too quiet. Nothing felt right for the first few days returning from an expedition. This time it felt worse somehow. She missed having Cassandra’s weight pressed up against her back, the warmth they shared, her regular inhale and exhale that filled the tent. 

Trev stared at the ceiling. Her eyes traced the stone work lit up by the moonlight streaming from the windows. She sighed. Trouble stood and stretched. His eyes gleamed in the dark and leapt from the bed. Even the cat didn’t want anything to do with her. 

Abruptly, she sat up. “Shit.” Groaning, she pressed her face into her hands. It had completely slipped her mind. Once she got bogged down with the meeting, Josephine introducing her to noble after noble after noble, she had forgotten to seek Leliana out. She sighed. “I’ll do it tomorrow, I guess.”

The breeze rattled through the doors that led out to the balcony. Trev shivered. Knowing there would be hell to pay tomorrow, she got out of her bed and pulled on a simple tunic and jacket. Trouble meowed at her. “I’m going for a walk, do you want to come?”

He leapt up onto her bed, taking over the warm spot she was lying in before and made himself comfortable. She groaned. “I guess that’s answer enough.”

She padded down the stairs silently, through the empty great hall and out to the battlements. Cold air stung her eyes and nostrils. The guards on duty saluted as she passed. Straightening her spine, she tried to look a little more inquisitorial and thanked them for their efforts. 

On the battlements, torches burnt at regular intervals, providing enough light to see by, casting dancing shadows against the stone. The walk begin to feel like a bad idea because she wasn't getting any sleepier. In fact she felt more awake than ever. Oddly despite the lit torches, the spaces where the light didn't fall looked darker. Trev didn't truly needed the torches, she had one all to herself on her left palm. 

A soft familiar groan drifted over. Trev froze. She frowned, unable to make out anyone ahead of her, but a telltale puff of breath ghosted up into the chill Frostback air. A scuffle of boot against stone, and Cassandra’s silhouette came into view. She braced her elbows against the ice cold stone and bowed her head. Trev’s chest tightened. The curve line of Cassandra’s back, hunched over and tight, the way her fingers pressed into her temples like she was having a headache, it all hurt to watch. 

Stuck between wanting to approach and worrying if she was invading Cassandra’s privacy, she stood rooted to the ground. Clearly, Cassandra wasn’t fine despite everything she claimed, but if Trev was the source of this, she shouldn't even be here. 

“Maker, give me strength,” Cassandra whispered. 

It shattered Trev’s indecision. She stepped forward only to stop when she heard another voice calling out, “Cassandra, are you here?”

Cullen stepped into view, golden hair, distinguished shoulders, complete with that majestic cloak of his. The yellow light from the torches made his hair glow. He leaned against the battlement blocking Cassandra from view. Words exchanged between them, but they were too low for Trev to make out. Cullen shrugged out of his cloak and draped it over Cassandra’s shoulders. She snorted, trying to give it back, but he muttered something, and she laughed. The sound stirred something deep within Trev’s chest. She liked Cassandra’s laugh, but she also wanted to be the one to make her laugh. The longer Trev stood there, the more she felt like an intruder. 

Trev turned around, seeking to escape. Hopefully, her presence had gone unnoticed. She didn’t get more than a couple of metres before a shadow moved just ahead of her. She almost yelped in fright. It was Leliana. “Fuck, please,” she cursed. “Don’t do that again.”

Leliana didn’t smile, instead her gleaming eyes darted to look over Trev’s shoulder and then back at her again. “Come with me.”

Like a child caught doing something wrong, Trev followed silently, heart thudding wondering if she was following her murderer to her own murder. 

Leliana guided her back inside, past Solas’s room, paint supplies and scaffolding set up and ready for him in the morning, past Dorian’s little nook, a stack of books piled at the foot of his chair, one of them laid opened face down on his chair, up the steps right into Leliana’s sanctum. 

“Sit.” She pointed at a stool. 

Trev sat with her back straight, hands resting on her thighs. She swallowed thickly, casting her eye about the room, trying to decide why Leliana wanted to see her so late in the night. Roosting ravens cawed sleepily at them as Leliana hushed them. Scrolls pressed flat on various tables and many more gathered in rolls nearby. Ink pot and parchment lay ready for the spymaster’s hand. 

“Tell me what happened.”

Trev blinked before slapping herself mentally. Of course. Leliana had noticed. She took a deep breath, and the entire tale poured out. The only thing she kept to herself were her own thoughts about Dedrick and how she felt about the sentence. Those were hers to keep. 

* * *

Leliana sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. Trev stared at Leliana, hoping she had answers. 

“This is a mess,” Leliana whispered

Trev agreed. The chitter and chirps of birds waking up to start their day drifted in from outside. The fire had gone out. Had she been here for hours? Her eyes felt sandy, and they hurt. 

“Is it my fault?” Trev asked, half afraid of the answer Leliana would give her. 

“Yes.” 

The answer slammed like a hammer against her chest, the last nail on her coffin. Dismay was written across her face as the Anchor flared bright. Trev gasped, holding her wrist. 

“No.” Leliana followed quickly after. 

“Which is it?” Trev barked. “Don’t sugarcoat things just cause you want to keep me pliable. Tell me.” Her eyes flashed, hard and unflinching, at Leliana. 

A smile tugged at the corners of Leliana’s mouth. Anger surged against Trev’s chest. “Are you mocking me? I want to fix what I’ve done to offend Cassandra. Tell me.”

Leliana shook her head. “It isn’t _entirely_ your fault, but your actions have played a part in what’s happening now.” She held up a hand, forestalling the deepening frown upon Trev’s brow. “It isn’t my story to tell. But Cassandra will come around if you give her time.”

All that anger collapsed inwards, and Trev buried her face in her hands. The Anchor flared in time to her pulse. “Is there anything I can do? Should I even approach her? She claims everything is fine, but it clearly isn’t. I just want to make things right.” 

With her gaze directed to the floor, Trev didn’t see the widening grin on Leliana’s face. All she heard was silence — silence that she took to mean the worst. Somehow, without knowing why or how, she had offended Cassandra deeply. Leliana had confirmed her worst fears. What else could it be other than the beheading? Revulsion was etched into Cassandra’s eyes. Trev hadn’t mistake it. She couldn’t breathe life into Dedrick. That blood would forever be on her hands. Could it be ever washed out?

“You can try doing something nice for her,” Leliana suggested. 

Trev looked up. “Write her a story?” 

“That would work, but I am thinking something a little more immediate. Maybe get the kitchen to make you some blueberry tarts to share with her?”

Clinging onto Leliana’s suggestion like a lifeline, Trev nodded. She stood, eager to get things started. “I can do that.” The green energy emitted from the Anchor fading away. “I’ll do both. Both is good. I’ll go tell the kitchen now.”

“Trevelyan,” Leliana called out as Trev stood at the threshold. “You might want to consider going to bed? You do have quite a few nobles to meet later.”

“It will be fine,” Trev said, disappearing through the door. “I’ve got an idea already.”

* * *

Hours later, Trev popped into the kitchen to ask about the blueberry tarts she had requested earlier. She found them covered by a clean white cloth. Each tart had a golden brown crust and a generous rich blue and purple filling on top. Yawning, she stared at the plate. It clearly was missing tarts. The cook promised six. Only four sat on the plate. 

Trev frowned. Where were the other two? Pulling the cloth covering the tart away, she found a note tagged to the under side of the cloth. She didn’t need to read the note to guess its contents once she spotted Sera’s handwriting, but she did anyway. 

“Inky gotta be sharing. Tarts are nice, and they are not poisoned. I’ve checked. Twice.” 

Trev sighed. Well four would do just as well as six. It was late, late enough for her to fear Cassandra would no longer be at training grounds. Balancing the plate in one hand, she clutched the hastily written short story in the other, she set off to the training grounds. 

Anxious and apprehensive, she found Cassandra. Trev took a deep breath, rehearsing what she wanted to say in her head. They sounded good in her mind, but she knew once she stood in front of Cassandra she’d sound like a fool who couldn’t string two words together. Trev desperately wanted to get this correct, to make things right. Cassandra was her friend, she’d do anything to make her feel better, to fix things.

Cassandra had her back towards her. She stood stock still, facing the straw dummy. The dummy had seen a fair bit of use that day judging by the amount of loose straw on the ground. Though it felt odd Cassandra remained at the training grounds so close to sun down, Trev ignored it, she wouldn’t question her luck finding Cassandra alone here. 

Trev gulped. Hopefully, the tarts would work the way Leliana seemed to think they would. She approached, dragging her boots to announce her presence. Cassandra didn’t react. She remained still, so motionless Trev got a little scared. 

Stopping two arms’ length away, her boots scuffed against the sandy ground, throwing up a puff of dust. “Cassandra.” Trev’s pulse throbbed against her temple, a little quicker than usual. She waited and waited. Cassandra didn’t budge. The screams of birds returning to roost filled the unnerving silence. “Cassandra, it’s me. I have something for you. Can we talk?” Her grip tightened around the scroll in her hand, she remembered at the last minute not to crush it in her grip. 

Trev swallowed and took a couple more steps nearer. “I think you’re angry with me. Maybe I’ve done something wrong, I just want to talk. Please.” 

Cassandra remained motionless. 

Trev's heart sank to the pit of her stomach. She cleared her throat roughly. “If you don’t want to talk, that’s okay too. Look, I’ve got you some blueberry tarts. We can share it. Sera had stolen two of them, but there are still four.” She took another few more steps closer. “You can have two, I can eat the other two.” With each step closer, Trev couldn’t help but feel something was very wrong. 

Cassandra had always forthright. If she didn’t like something, a groan, a frown or a glare would have gotten her message across. Trev never needed to guess or wonder. This silence wasn’t normal. Something was terribly wrong. Had she upset Cassandra this badly? Trev took a deep breath and circled around to Cassandra’s front. 

What she saw scared her. 

Cassandra's brown eyes stared through Trev, looking at something Trev couldn’t see. Tears streamed from Cassandra’s eyes, cutting tracks down her face. But most terrifyingly, her opened mouth hung ajar in a silent scream. Trev’s breath caught painfully in her throat. She dropped the plate of tarts and the scroll. They hit the ground, the plate shattered and still Cassandra didn’t move. She didn’t even blinked. 

What was wrong? Was this a demon attack? Glancing at the training ground, Trev didn't see a single soul. The trainees had gone off to take a bath or to enjoy a meal at the Herald’s Rest. Cullen was nowhere in sight either. If this was a demon attack, it was the quietest one she had ever seen. 

  
“Cassandra,” she called urgently. 

Nothing, still nothing. Fear gripped Trev chest. Was this something else then? An injury, an illness the likes she had never seen before. Cassandra looked pale, frozen and utterly vulnerable. Trev shook herself, she had to keep her head. Cassandra was counting on her now. 

Tentatively, she took the sword from Cassandra's grip and dropped it onto the ground. Reaching up, she touched Cassandra’s hands. They were cold. How long had she been standing here? Trev’s ribs shrank two sizes down. Her pulse throbbing painfully in her chest. “I’m going to hold your hands all right?” 

Cassandra didn’t give any indication she heard. Trev bit down on her lip. She’d apologise to Cassandra later for touching her without permission. Right now she had to get her help, but who? As she considered her options, she rubbed her hands over Cassandra’s, warming them up. The infirmary would be too public, it wouldn’t do for everyone to see Cassandra this way. 

Solas! 

He would know what to do, and he’d be able to keep things quiet. Her first task was to get Cassandra to her room. It offered privacy and space for her to recover. 

Trev tugged her cloak off and threw it around Cassandra’s shoulders. Gently, she brushed the tears from Cassandra’s face. Cassandra didn’t even flinch. Worry filled the pit of Trev’s gut, heavy and solid. Bringing Cassandra’s hands up to her lips, she blew warm air against them. Once she was satisfied they were a little warmer, she said, “I’m going to get you help, you just have to follow me, all right?”

She guided Cassandra along, one arm wrapped around Cassandra’s waist, pulling her close, the other holding onto her hand, trying to feel for the slightest bit of reaction to what she was doing. They left the training ground, the shattered remains of the plate, crumpled bits of blueberry tarts and the fallen scroll fluttering in the wind. All of the broken shards forgotten. Trev clutched onto Cassandra, holding her tightly. The gesture served to support Cassandra as much as Trev supported herself.

* * *

Trev folded her arms across her chest. They'd refuse to stay still otherwise. She guided Cassandra to sit on her bed. With assurances pouring from her mouth, she raced to get Solas. Not even offering him an explanation, she grabbed his arm and dragged him along. The worry and anxiety etched on her face must have convinced him to follow without asking questions.

Her eyes darted between Solas and Cassandra, listening to his low voice as he verbalised everything he was doing to. Fingers probing and prodding along Cassandra's head, he worked his way throughly through her hair. He made a sound of confusion. 

Trev started, taking a couple of steps forward, coming to a stop by Cassandra's side. "What is it?" She placed a hand on Cassandra's shoulder, wishing there was a physical enemy she could fight. She couldn't stand this sense of helplessness. She glanced at Cassandra. The tears had stopped, but that thousand yard stare remained. 

Trev had never seen Cassandra cry happen before. Angry, furious, determined, happy, relaxed, stressed out and sad but never ever crying. Her Anchor sparked bright green with her anxiety, but at that moment Trev didn't noticed it in the slightest. 

"Is it a demonic possession?" she forced herself to ask.

Solas coughed, eyes widening. "What made you think that?"

"The stillness, the non-responsiveness," Trev said, her free hand gesturing in jerks. Then, it dawned on her that this looked more like something else than a possession. No! Pushing, Cassandra's hair from her forehead, bending over to check. Trev found the skin unmarked and unblemished. She sighed in relief, hand pressed against her chest. 

"May I ask what are you doing Inquisitor?"

"Tranquility," Trev blurted. "She looks like she has been made tranquil." That notion threatened to squeeze all air out of her lungs. "She isn't, is she?"

Solas shook his head. "No. This isn't tranquility. The Seeker is fine for the most part."

"Fine?" Trev yelled before catching herself. "How is this fine?"

He held his hand up. "I'm not done." She clamped her mouth shut and tightened her grip on Cassandra's hands. "Her memories are attacking her."

"So it is a demon!"

Solas shook his head. "Inquisitor, I know you're anxious, but please let me finish first."

Trev swallowed and took a deep breath. "Okay."

"These are just regular memories. There is no demon, no tranquility rite had been carried out, none of that. This is more likely to be past memories trapping the Seeker in her head."

Trev stared at Cassandra. A lump formed in her throat. To be trapped by memories that made Cassandra cry, the thought of it was unbearable. Cassandra was a warrior, the Right Hand of the Divine and a Dragon Hunter to boot, what terrible thing did Cassandra see? 

"What does this mean? What can I do?"

Solas talked, listing things that she could do to help. In the end, he sighed. "For now, I recommend a sleeping potion. So that she can truly rest."

Trev nodded. It sounded like the best thing to do for now. Solas departed to retrieve the potion, leaving her alone with Cassandra. Cassandra still had her armour on and sleeping in it was a sure way to wake up sore. One by one, Trev undid the bindings so that she could to remove Cassandra's heavy plate. She stacked them in a corner, leaving Cassandra in her gambeson. It would be too thick with the fire roaring at the fireplace, plus it had the stench of old sweat clinging to it. Before Trev could decide what to do, Solas returned. He handed her a small bottle along with a spoon and bowl. "Just in case it's easier to feed her," he explained. "Do you want me to help you with it?"

Trev wanted to say yes, but she knew Cassandra wouldn't want anyone to see her this way. Would Cassandra be comfortable with _her_? She wasn't sure. 

Trev shook her head. "I can handle it. Will you please let Leliana know? She will know what to do." 

Solas nodded and withdrew. "I will check in on her tomorrow morning."

Once she heard the door latched behind him, Trev stared at Cassandra and Cassandra's gaze remained the same, sightless and empty. Taking a deep breath, Trev said, "That gambeson looks really uncomfortable. Let's get you out of it okay?"

Cassandra blinked but didn't otherwise react. She had been no help with getting herself undressed, but Trev managed. Cassandra wore a thinner tunic under the gambeson, and Trev decided that would do for tonight. Picking up the bottle of potion up, she asked, "Do you think you can drink from the bottle?"

Cassandra remained as still as before. Trev tipped the bottle against Cassandra's lips, and the excess dribbled out of the corners of her mouth, but her throat bobbed, swallowing what little that made it in. It gave Trev hope. She transferred the potion into the bowl and spooned it slowly into Cassandra's mouth. Whispering encouragement as she did so. Eventually, the potion was all gone, and Cassandra's eyelids sagged. Trev hurried to get Cassandra to lay down. As soon as Cassandra's head touched the pillow, she sighed and closed her eyes, snuggling into Trev's pillow and breathing in deeply. 

Trev tried to stand, only to feel something tugging her back. Cassandra had her hand wrapped around Trev's wrist. A loose grip, one that Trev could easily get out of, but she didn’t want to. It felt nice. A smile lifted her lips. For the first time, since finding Cassandra like this, Trev believed Cassandra would be okay. 

* * *

A muffled wail made Trev jumped. Blinking sleep away, she nearly fell out of the chair she had cramped herself in. Had she dreamt the noise or was it real? The fire had burnt down to mere embers, the room dark. Blue moonlight streaming in from the balcony casting shadows and providing illumination. 

A furry paw swatted at her. Trev started and stared. Trouble’s white fur was tinted blue in the dim light. “When did you get here?” He ignored her and batted at her again, meowing insistently. She glanced over at Cassandra to find her twisted within the blanket, mouth opened as another groan spilled from it, locked in a nightmare. Trouble leapt from her lap to the bed, batting at Cassandra’s sweat drenched face. Trev wasted no time and gripped Cassandra’s shoulder. She shook her. “Cassandra.”

No sooner had Trev touched Cassandra, her eyes snapped opened. Trev wanted to smile, the desire had barely made it to her lips, telling them widen when a fist slammed into her face. Pain flashed across her nose. Tears blurred her vision as she back away lest Cassandra decided to swing a second time. Through her haze, she could hear Trouble hissing loudly as Cassandra fought with the blanket. 

“Where— Maker, Trev!” 

The back of Trev's knees hit the chair and she slumped into it, cupping her nose that was bleeding profusely. Breathing got difficult, forcing her to open her mouth. She was making a mess. Maybe she should try to contain it. Opening her eyes, her head throbbed harder, all she could make out were blurred shapes. On second thought, perhaps it was prudent to make the attempt when she could see clearly. 

“I’m so sorry, Trev.” A hand gripped her shoulder, and she flinched. 

The hand fled. Feet started shuffling away, but Trev reached out and managed to grab a handful of tunic. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice came out all muffled and nasally. Her hands weren't going to be able to contain the mess at the rate the blood flowed. 

“Maker, Trev, this isn’t the time, let me get Solas to see to your nose.”

“No,” she insisted. “I just need a towel or bucket or something.”

“You’re in pain.”

“You are too.”

Silence met her statement. Then, a sigh. “You have to let go of me if you want that towel and bucket.”

Trev forced her fingers to release Cassandra's tunic. 

"Watch your mistress, cat," Cassandra instructed Trouble. She got a meow in reply, whether Trouble understood or not was a wholly different thing. 

Trev waited with her eyes closed, trying to breathe through the pain. The middle of her face felt like a solid throbbing mess. Her nose must have been broken, but she had never had her nose broken before so she couldn't tell. Hopefully, it wasn't, maybe just lightly bruised. She didn't want Josephine to kill her. 

Trouble leapt up to the chair, jostling her elbow and she groaned, muttering curses under her breath. The cat paid her no heed and squished himself against the back of the chair and her back. He purred aggressively, sending vibrations up her back. For some reason, Trev felt calmer after that. 

Footsteps returned, and a bucket scraped against the floor. "Trev, I'm going to need you to let go of your nose so I can see," Cassandra said. 

Trev peeled her eyes open. Her vision remained blurry. Cassandra — the vague figure — had couched down before her. Though Trev couldn't quite see the look on Cassandra's face, she could feel the guilt radiating from her. "I've got you, all right?" Cassandra squeezed her shoulder. 

Even if Cassandra hadn't put it into words, Trev could feel it, she knew it down to her bones. Grunting, she pulled her hand away and dropped her hands between her legs. The excess blood flowed down her face. Judging by the dismay clear across Cassandra's face, she obviously looked like an exploded tomato. "Is it that bad?" 

Cassandra schooled her expression, smoothing it over. It looked a little too much like the vacant stare from yesterday. Trev's heart lurched sideways, and she couldn't bear the sight of it. Reaching out, she pressed a hand against Cassandra's face, seeking to find her friend she knew was underneath. Cassandra leaned into it as if she needed the connection too. The mask melted away, and the woman — not the former Right Hand of the Divine, or even the Seeker — shone through. 

"Are you all right?" Trev asked, her words a whisper, clinging to the chill night air. 

Cassandra met her gaze. There, something old and barely healed pooled. A hurt so sharp Trev feared she'd cut herself against it if she approached, but she couldn't let Cassandra stand there all battered and bruised by herself. 

"Please tell me," Trev pleaded. "I want to help."

Cassandra didn't speak. Her throat moved, words seemed to hover on the tip of her tongue but none made it out. Trouble sat up, bumping his head against Trev's elbow, making her wince. Cassandra growled, "That's not the way to help, cat."

Trouble stared at Cassandra down, unrepentant. After a while, satisfied his primarcy remained secured, he leaned his considerable weight against Trev's side. Cassandra sighed and directed her attention back to Trev. Her hands reached around Trev's back to coax her to sit forward. Fingers hovered over Trev's swollen nose, she warned, "It's going to hurt. 

Trev's vision turned white as her breath rushed out of her lungs. Cassandra's fingers pinched her nose, sealing her nostrils shut as Trev resorted to gasp for air through her mouth. It took all her willpower not to jerk out of Cassandra's grip. One hand flailed about, grasping the air. Cassandra caught it, and Trev held onto her forearm like it was the only thing keeping her from flying apart. 

"Breathe, just breathe," Cassandra said. "It will be better once the bleeding stopped." 

Minutes dragged on forever, but eventually Cassandra let go. No more blood flowed. "I think it has stopped bleeding," she said. 

"I'd hope so, I do not want to do that again," Trev rasped. 

Cassandra held Trev's chin between her fingers, gently dabbing the towel over her face to wipe the blood and tears away. 

"So how do I look? Has my dashing good looks been destroyed?" Trev raised her eyebrow one after another alternatingly. 

Cassandra snorted in disgust, releasing Trev's chin and tossing the towel at her face. Trev laughed and groaned. "I should not do that."

A soft chuckle slipped from Cassandra's lips. Hearing it made Trev smiled. It didn’t matter that it hurt, she couldn’t hold it back. Cassandra rose to her feet, but Trev caught her hand. She had no intention to just let things slide. "Is it Crestwood?" 

Cassandra went completely still, and Trev's heart sank. The Anchor sparked and crackled, bright and furious. Her fingers went slack, letting Cassandra's hand go. 

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Cassandra’s brow creased in confusion. She stared at Trev. “Why are you sorry? What are you sorry for?”

“For…” Trev opened her mouth only to shut it again. She didn’t know how to put it into words. It felt like defeat, it felt like not living up to her responsibilities. “For not standing my ground for Dedrick, for bending when I shouldn’t have.” She stood up, unable to stay seated. Pacing with her head bow, eyes averted, explanations spilled from her lips. “I know he has done horrible things, but he was also just trying his best.” She stopped, eyes locking onto Cassandra’s, hoping she wouldn’t find revulsion there. “ _I_ am just trying my best.”

Cassandra’s face softened. “Oh Trev.” She closed the distance between them, and took Trev’s hand in hers and led her to the bed where they both sat. “That’s not it. I am not angry over that. In fact, I am not angry at anyone, but myself. I…” Cassandra grimaced. That old pain returned stronger than before. 

“If that’s not it, what?” Trev straightened, squeezing Cassandra’s hand. “I meant what I said. I want to help. Please let me help.”

Cassandra stared at her, not just looking into her eyes, but boring past them into her soul. Trev remained still. She couldn’t say if Cassandra found what she was looking for, but Cassandra nodded. 

Words came haltingly through a tight jaw, with hands squeezing Trev’s tight. The story came in fragmented bits and pieces. Memories of a time long past played in Cassandra’s eyes. Her gaze pain glazed, her posture stiff, even after all this time, the wounds remained raw and fresh. 

The more Trev heard, the harder her heart ached, the sadder she felt. Cassandra for all her dragon hunting heritage, being a member of the illustrious Pentaghast line, as close to royalty Trev was going to get, had a tragedy filled life. Trev held Cassandra’s hands. She listened, offering herself up as a vessel, allowing Cassandra to empty herself into. It was the least she could do. 

By the time Cassandra’s words ran dry, the sun had risen. Trouble had moved from the chair to join them on bed. He forced himself onto Cassandra’s lap, draping himself over them. Trev didn’t let go of Cassandra's hand as she listened, squeezing Cassandra’s palm, lacing their fingers together, giving what comfort she could through small gestures. To see Cassandra so strong but yet brittle, it only made Trev want to be the friend Cassandra could lean on.

“I’m sorry,” Cassandra whispered eventually. Trev stiffened. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you all of this. It’s stupid, it had happened so long ago. I shouldn’t burden you with this. There is nothing you can do about it. What happened at Crestwood is beyond your control. I—.”

“Stop it,” Trev interrupted. An indignant fire ignited in her chest. “This isn’t stupid. You were hurt, and you are still hurting. Anthony was your brother, and if it had been any one of mine I would be the same.”

Cassandra stared, surprised at the bite in Trev's voice. “But—”

“No buts. Are we not friends?” Trev demanded, planting both hands on Cassandra’s shoulders, her grip tight. 

She nodded, utterly bewildered by the turn of events. 

“Good friends?”

A small smile dawned upon Cassandra’s face. “Best friends.”

“Good.” Trev nodded and pulled Cassandra into a hug. All she caught was a flash of surprise as Cassandra collided against her. For a moment, Trev wondered if she had done something wrong, because Cassandra remained stiff like a stone, but it went away quickly. Her arms came up to wrap around Trev’s back, their bodies moulding against each other. Trev didn’t hear Cassandra sob, but she felt Cassandra’s shoulders shake. Trev just tightened her hug. 

Trev wished with all her heart that she could relieve Cassandra of this hurt, but it was beyond her ability to turn back time. If this was the best she could do, she would do it well. “If friends kiss friends, then best friends can hug too.”

Cassandra chuckled, still shaking but of a different kind. “I shouldn’t have taught you that.”

Trev tilted her head, nearly pressing her lips against Cassandra’s ear. “It is the best lesson you could have teach me.”

Neither seemed inclined to move. There was comfort in the touch, in the closeness. Trev felt she could stay like this a long time, maybe forever. 

Eventually, Cassandra pulled away. She didn’t look happier, but she felt lighter. “Thank you.”

“What else can I do? I want to help. Should I…” Trev swallowed, “avoid you? I don’t want you to be locked in your mind again. It was…”

Cassandra shook her head. “It is not your job to be my protector, and I can’t do my job if you’re avoiding me. I will figure this out. Maybe sleeping draughts from Solas or something."

"Are you sure? I do want to help you in whatever way I can. Maybe you can move into the keep itself, Josephine has earmarked a room for you before. You don't have to sleep over the armoury. It will allow you to have a more restful sleep. Or maybe you can take my room, it's quiet, the bed is bigger."

Cassandra smiled and pressed her hand against Trev’s lips. "Stop. Do you trust me?"

Trev nodded, a blush creeping up her neck. 

"Then trust me to come to you when I need help, all right?"

"All right." Trev’s trust in Cassandra was utter. She was her best friend after all. 

"Thank you," Cassandra said, her eyes taking in the damage wrought to Trev's face. She winced. "And I am sorry." She gestured towards Trev's nose. "You really should let Solas look at that."

Before she could reply, there was a rap against the door. Footsteps took the stairs up quickly but paused just shy of coming up. "Inquisitor, it's me, Solas. I've come to check in on the Seeker."

"It's all right, Solas. I am fine,” Cassandra said.

Solas took it as an invitation to enter the room proper. His eyes widened as he stared at them. "What happened to your face Inquisitor?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	4. your eyes, they are a puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People might think she was a buffoon, that she didn't deal in subtleties. Others might think she was a blind fool that couldn’t see what was before her eyes or she couldn't read the hidden meaning between words unspoken. 
> 
> But that was not true of Cassandra Pentaghast. She was a daughter of a noble house and a Seeker of Truth, trained to see pierce through evasive actions and whispered words to find the truth underneath. Despite her distaste, she had always been living in and around the Game her entire life. Cassandra Pentaghast notices things. 
> 
> And she had noticed Trev. 

People might think she was a buffoon, that she didn't deal in subtleties. Others might think she was a blind fool that couldn’t see what was before her eyes or she couldn't read the hidden meaning between words unspoken. 

But that was not true of Cassandra Pentaghast. She was a daughter of a noble house and a Seeker of Truth, trained to see pierce through evasive actions and whispered words to find the truth underneath. Despite her distaste, she had always been living in and around the Game her entire life. Cassandra Pentaghast notices things. 

And she had noticed Trev. 

Trev made it a point to join her in early morning training. Sometimes they sparred, other times Trev sought her instruction over some finer point of blade work. They would head to the baths together, to wash the sweat and grime off. She enjoyed these short and perfunctory baths punctuated by Trev's latest story of Sera's outrageous antics, or her seemingly endless complaints about the latest noble she had to make pleasantries with. Time past quickly, a little too quickly in Cassandra's opinion, during those baths. Sometimes she could barely get a word in edge wise between washing Trev's back for her and having Trev do the same for her, but she knew it was all calculated. After a shared meal, Trev bade her goodbye with a dour look on her face as she trudged towards another of her endless Inquisitorial duties. 

But Trev didn't stay away for the rest of the day, she returned mid afternoon usually with a snack or two to pull her away from her efforts in searching for her missing fellow Seekers, insisting that a break would help. Today, she arrived with blueberry tarts. 

Cassandra couldn’t help the gasp when she realised what they were at first. How did Trev know? There was an exceedingly short list of people who knew these were her favourites. She looked at Trev suspiciously. 

"What?" Trev asked, a tart already clasped between her fingers, hovering midway towards her mouth. "You don't like these? Leliana told me these were your favourites."

That explained it. Leliana was meddling again as usual. She groaned and rolled her eyes. Trev stood up, ready to take the tarts away. "No!" Cassandra yelled louder than she intended. 

Trev froze, her eyes wide. "Yes?"

"Leave them. I..."

"You...?"

"I like them," she admitted. 

Trev smiled, it looked so bright, so pure that her chest warmed up too. They shared the tarts between them as Trev pored over her maps and asked about her investigation. A frown creased Trev’s brow as she listened intently. Through explaining things to Trev, it crystallised some ideas that had been knocking around at the back of her head. "Trev you're a genius!"

"What did I do?" Trev blinked. 

Cassandra bent over and planted her lips against Trev’s forehead. "You're might be right. They might be..." Words failed her as she caught Trev looking at her. "Why are you looking at me this way?"

A softness filled Trev's eyes and Cassandra realised she was incredibly fond of it. Coupled with the silly grin on Trev’s face, she found herself matching Trev smile for smile. Trev shook her head and stood up. "I should go. Looks like your break is done."

"But there is still one more tart, we should split it," Cassandra pointed out. 

"You can have it."

"No, we should split it, it isn't fair for me to have more when you made the effort to get these kept aside for us."

"Oh Cassandra, they’re your favourites. It's not like I've grown the blueberries or made the tarts myself."

Cassandra was about to insist again when Trev picked up the remaining tart and took a big bite of it, still less than the half she should have gotten, and spoke through a full mouth. "There, I've ate some. I have to go, Josephine is going to kill me if I am late again."

Trev made a beeline for the door, but Cassandra reached out and grabbed her hand, halting her. Trev stopped and stared at her in confusion. She brushed the crumbles from the corners of Trev's mouth and off her chest. 

"Oops." Trev laughed in that way of hers. 

Cassandra looked, she observed and more importantly, she always noticed. "Are you sleeping fine?" she asked, pulling her hands back to her sides. 

"Of course. Why would you think otherwise?" Trev replied. 

Her response sounded a little too glib, a little too rehearsed. Cassandra wasn't fooled. "You trusted me to take care of myself so I’m trusting you to do the same."

Trev's smile faltered. 

"You'd let me know if you need help right?"

Trev nodded. Satisfied, Cassandra let Trev's hand go. She spent rest of the day looking the empty plate held the tarts earlier and thinking about Trev's smile. 

Cassandra's troubles were by no means solved just because she talked to Trev about it. The memories mind that assaulted her still remained. They ambushed her when she least expect it. Trev's presence helped ground her in the present. It kept her distracted, and it filled her days with things she looked forward to. Bit by bit, they did returned to that old locked box she had kept them in. However, nights remained challenging. In sleep, she became unguarded. Seeing Trev beheading Dedrick only ripped the wound, she had spent years trying and failing to heal, wide open again. Solas' sleeping draughts helped her to fall asleep, but they didn't keep her from dreaming. He offered to walk the fade with her and help her guide them to rest, but these nightmares were too private, too personal to share. Hopefully with time, the dreams would go away as well. For now, these bright spots in her day would sustain her, and it was enough. 

* * *

“It’s late.” Cassandra stared at Trev.

“I know but…” Trev stared at the ground, and Trouble stared at them both. He meowed as if asking what was taking her so long to let them in. 

She sighed, she had already dressed for sleep. And apparently so had Trev. A breeze swept past the courtyard outside, throwing Trev’s hair into disarray, and she shivered. It didn’t make sense to not let Trev in, it was warm inside. With a bedroll hanging off Trev's shoulder and a pillow in her hand, Cassandra had a good idea why she's here.

Trouble didn’t wait for permission. He slipped in between Cassandra’s legs and the door. His tail held high, he disappeared inside, probably already making himself comfortable on her bedroll. Cassandra sighed and took a step back. “Come in.”

Sure enough, Trouble had planted himself in the middle of her bedroll. Cassandra sat down and watched as Trev spread her bedroll next to hers. “Why are you here? I’m fine. You know that.”

Trev winced. She plopped down and pulled her boots off. “I know, but I’m not really sleeping well,” she confessed. “I worry.” Cassandra’s brow folded in two without conscious thought. Trev folded her legs over each other and looked at her. “You say I should come to you if I needed help, well this is for me. I worry less. I'd sleep better if I am here.”

Cassandra wasn’t convinced. This sounded like some roundabout way for Trev to keep an eye on her, but there has been a deepening of the rings around Trev’s eyes in the past week. Cassandra couldn’t tell if the healing bruise from her injured nose refused to fade or terrible sleep had caused it. 

“Unless you want to sleep with me in my room. We can share my bed.”

Cassandra blinked. Was Trev saying what Cassandra thought she was say? Was this an offer for something sexual? 

"It's big enough for the two of us anyway."

Cassandra leaned forward, and Trev responded by leaning back. Her eyes were rounded and wide, the whites tinged yellow by the lamp light. They looked utterly earnest and completely without guile. She had made this offer sincerely. Cassandra shifted back into a neutral position and Trev matched her. 

"Do you want to go out into the chill air again?" Cassandra asked. 

Trev shuddered. "Here's fine too. It will be like we're out on an expedition and we're sharing a huge tent."

Cassandra snorted. "So..."

Trev hummed, pushing her bedroll closer to Cassandra's. 

"Are you just going to bed now?"

Trev snuggled under her blanket, looking inordinately like Trouble when he was particularly pleased with himself. Elbow braced against the bedroll, her head resting against her hand as she lay on her side. "No, not really. I thought maybe we could just talk, you know?"

Cassandra made herself comfortable and found she couldn't, not with Trouble taking up half her space. Trev chuckled and patted her bedroll, calling for the cat. Trouble didn't even deign to open his eyes, he looked too comfortable. Cassandra managed to slip under the covers without disturbing the sleepy cat too much. With Trouble curled up in a ball between Trev and herself, Cassandra looked at Trev and asked, "So now what?"

Trev ducked her head, averting her eyes. "What did you think about that new story I wrote?"

Cassandra brightened up instantly because the story was so good. Another perfect little chapter that encapsulated the continuing adventures of the guardswoman and the accused murderer, now turned swashbuckling adventurer. The new story Trev wrote covered the pair navigating courtly intrigue and an attempted assassination on the princess' life. Of course, the duo thwarted it but not before the adventurer got stabbed. 

"Didn’t I say something about ending on a cliffhanger the last time?" Cassandra growled. 

Trev chuckled. "What? Are you asking me to throw away the chance to keep my one and only reader coming back for more?"

"Have you been talking to Varric? You seemed to be picking more and more of his bad habits."

"What, me? No."

Conversation flowed effortlessly as Cassandra tried to tease more details out of Trev while Trev remained coy yet eager to share. Cassandra didn't remember when she fell asleep, but she did remember looking at Trev, studying her jawline and the curve of her lips, watching the delight dancing in those eyes and thinking to herself that having Trev sleeping with her was nice. It was really nice. 

"Cassandra." 

Drowning, Anthony's blood filled her lungs as she screamed. A voice reached out to her, a lifeline. All she had to do was reach it. But—

"Cassandra, wake up."

Blood, so much of it. Most terrifying of all, Anthony's head and his sightless eyes boring into hers. 

"Cassandra!"

She surged up, gasping for air. Green light filled her vision, she had to squeeze her eyes shut to keep from blinding herself. A hand gripped her shoulder, Trev's hand. "Breathe, breathe, just breathe."

Inhale, exhale, inhale and exhale. 

Bit by bit, she peeled her eyes open again, only to find her room lit up by Trev's anchor. It crackled agitatedly, almost angry. Lines of green crawled up Trev’s arm like vines. Cassandra had not seen a display like this before, the last time it came close Trev was in tears from the pain. Right now, she didn't even seemed to notice. 

Trev knelt beside her, concern and worry pouring from the words she didn't say. Oddly, she kept her left hand awkwardly angled away, almost as if she feared the Anchor would hurt Cassandra. "Are you all right?"

Cassandra panted, her pulse throbbed loudly against her ears, but it was slowly but surely returning to normal. "Yes, yes."

Trev did not look convinced in the slightest. Trouble stepped between them, bumping his head against Cassandra's hand. With a purring cat in her arms and Trev's hand rubbing her shoulders, she felt better. Burying her face into Trouble's fur, she hoped Trev wouldn't ask her to return to bed, not so soon. The after images of her nightmare remained burnt into her eyelids. She couldn’t bear to sink back into sleep only for the nightmare to grab her again. She was fine, she wasn’t lying when she said that. But she didn’t know how to get rid of these Maker cursed nightmares. How could she protect Trev and stand next to her if she remained this fragile? Maker, she should be able to shake this off like everything else. Nightmares weren't tangible, they couldn't kill her. 

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

Cassandra looked up, surprised. Trev took her leather vest from the hook and offering to her. She put it on as Trev wrapped her spare cloak she had draped over the chair around her shoulders. It spotted a couple of holes she had meant to mend it earlier, but she had forgotten all about it while chatting with Trev. They exited the armoury with Trouble trotting after them. 

Chill night air stabbed her nose and lungs, but it cleared her head instantly. 

They had no destination, no motive, just a desire to move. Theirs were the only footsteps that echoed across the courtyard, they bypassed the stairs leading to the battlements, instead they walked towards the garden. 

The garden was mostly dark, illuminated only by the moon and the scant few torches lining the walls. The scent of elfroot filled her nose, sweet yet sharp, mixed with the earthy smell of damp soil. Cassandra remembered seeing Trev toiling over the garden, planting elfroot in every available space. She was amused, considering the hardy herb was readily available everywhere. Trev defended her choice by pointing out the infirmary could always use more elfroot. Cassandra conceded she was right. 

Trev squeezed her hand as she turned her gaze skywards. Cassandra didn’t turn her eyes to the sky, instead she stared at their joined hands. How long had they been holding hands? Since they left her room? Since Trev tried to wake her? Or in her sleep? Oddly, she didn't want to let go. Renewing her grip on Trev's hand, she noted the way their palms and fingers fit together, Trev's smaller hand, the callouses that lined the ridge of her palm. They fit despite the mismatch in size.

Cassandra noticed a lot of things, but most of all, she noticed the way Trev's eyes shined when Trev looked at her. Also Trev’s smile never failed to make her smile too. Cassandra couldn't say if the nightmares would go away like it did previously, but she believed, Maker willing, she could weather it better than she did the last time with Trev looking out for her. It was okay not to be okay all the time. It was okay to need help and lean on friends. 

Cassandra pulled Trev close against her, feeling the tiny tremors that shook Trev's body. "Why did you suggest a walk when you're so cold?"

"Seems like a good idea at the time," Trev replied through chattering teeth. 

She snorted. This time, she led Trev to _her_ quarters, it was closer anyway. After she rekindled the fire, they crawled into the bed together. Trev was right, it was comfortable, more so than her bedroll. Trouble fit himself in the space between them. 

"Good night," Trev muttered, but she made no move to close her eyes, instead she stared at Cassandra. 

"You're supposed to close your eyes after you say 'good night', you know?" Cassandra pointed out, stifling a yawn. 

“I know, but I’m taking first watch, so you can go ahead and sleep.”

“First watch? We are in Skyhold, Cullen has posted guards. There is no need for a watch.” Then, it dawned on Cassandra, Trev meant her. “But—”

“It’s fine, indulge me, just for one night,” Trev replied. “I worry less this way.”

Cassandra held her gaze for a moment. Trust, she trusted Trev, in battle, while on expedition, to lead the Inquisition straight and true and to see the Rifts closed once and for all. Those were part of Trev's professional duties. This was different, personal. She realised she had no qualms trusting Trev in this too, no hesitation, no reservations. 

“I’ll wake you,” Trev said. 

And so Cassandra closed her eyes and slept. 

Life wasn’t clean cut and simple. These memories, in all likelihood, would continue to plague her for a long time, maybe even for the rest of her life. Cassandra was sure she would figure out a way to manage it. One day, the space it took up in her life would shrink and shrink till it becomes small and manageable. Trev bolstered her confidence that she'd be able to make this true. Maybe, just maybe, among all the terrible things that had happened since the destruction of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the one good thing that came out of it — being best friends with Trev. 

She reached out and gripped Trev’s hand in hers as slumber took her. And maybe she didn’t want to let go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


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